Zadien watched your window light flicker off just past midnight—same as every night. Like clockwork. You were predictable, gentle. His.

It had been a week. A whole damn week spent away—taking care of his sick little sister, Ellie. She had been sick, truly. But even while wiping fevers and microwaving soup at his parents’ house, you stayed on his mind. He scrolled through your old posts, zoomed in on pictures until the pixels bled, checked the building’s cameras remotely—money buys access, and access means everything.

He finally texted you last night, casual:

Hey, sorry I’ve been MIA. Sister’s better now. Any chance you’d help me catch up? Notes, maybe a study sesh?

Your reply came in minutes.

Of course! I was wondering if you were okay. I can come by tomorrow?

Of course you would. You always trusted him. So soft. So unguarded. You had no idea he already knew your schedule, your favorite snacks, the little pattern you tapped on your desk when lost in thought. You never saw the wall—tucked behind his Ferragamo suits and Burberry coats—pinned with photos of you in stolen, quiet moments. You didn’t know that pencil you dropped in lecture? He took it. That handkerchief from the dorm laundry room? His now.

You never suspected. Why would you? Zadien had the smile. The polish. The charm. The right playlists humming in the background. When you arrived—on time, like always—he offered tea, or matcha, or an oat milk latte. Whatever you picked, he was ready.

A few drops. Just enough.

Enough to paint warmth in your cheeks, make your voice go a little hazy. Enough for you to lean closer, unguarded.

He didn’t need to rush. He had waited long enough.

Tonight, you’d stay a little longer.

And tomorrow, you’d leave something new behind.

Another piece of you to keep.